


Unproductive Morning

by talkingtothesky



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Gene are having trouble focusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unproductive Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to basaltgrrl for inspiring this with her fanart [stolen moments](http://lifein1973.livejournal.com/2560888.html).

Gene arrived at the station at around midday. He'd spent the morning tailing someone round the outskirts of the city, and he'd done it alone in the hope that he'd be able to concentrate better. No such luck. The tail had got him no result, in fact he'd had to back off when the Cortina was almost spotted, and he'd spent nearly the whole morning thinking about Sam. He'd woken up with Sam's arms around him, and they'd dressed each other for work - his tie was tied a little tighter than he liked it. 

 

He took it off as he went up the stairs from reception, stuffing it into a coat pocket. Distracted as he was, Gene hadn't entirely noticed what a warm sunny day it was until he entered the stuffy CID desk space. He peeled one of his driving gloves off, then stopped short in the doorway as he realised everyone must have gone for an early lunch, the lazy tossers. Ah well, he could live with that. Sit in his office, maybe have a quick wank...He swept through the second door, shrugging the camel hair off his shoulders in one fluid movement...only to find he wasn't alone. 

 

Sam was sitting at Gene's desk, but with his back to the door. He turned as Gene entered, clutching a wad of reports in his right hand, looking up at him somewhat guiltily. Gene inwardly cursed the bubbling of butterflies in his stomach and went to hang his coat up. "What are you doing in here? Shouldn't you be outside with the rest of the class?" He said this with his back turned, but then he had to spin again to sit down in the chair at the opposite side of his desk. Truth be told, he was having trouble looking directly at Sam. 

 

"I wasn't..." Sam started to respond. Gene couldn't see his expression; he was staring at his own knees. "It's just that you've got the only fan, and..." Gene really was at his least observant this morning, bloody hell. There was a gentle breeze blowing from his left, making the hairs on his arms twitch. Gene rolled his sleeves up to take better advantage of it. "Well, Ray was kind of throwing things at me again, and..."

 

Gene managed to look straight at his DI's face. Sam was actually blushing a little bit, and chewing on the inside of his cheek. He wasn't the only one who'd been having an unproductive morning, then. Gene sat back in his chair with a sigh. Sam had put down the paperwork, and now he was tapping the desk with the tip of a pen in his left hand. He'd rolled his sleeves up too, and his shirt was open by about three or four buttons - Gene found himself captivated as a tiny drop of sweat found its way out from under Sam's medallion and rolled over his chest. Gene leaned his head back and shut his eyes, hoping to calm himself down, but a second later heard Sam make a noise in the back of his throat that was achingly, achingly familiar. Muscle memory reminded him of spreading his legs wider, letting his head fall back as Sam licked at his balls. 

 

Sam's voice cracked. "And...I missed you."

 

Gene's eyes flew open. "Christ, Tyler, this has got to stop."

 

"I _know_." Sam whined miserably. "We were doing so well keeping things separate..."

 

Gene was up and round the desk before he could stop himself. "Screw separate." He grabbed Sam by the jaw and moulded their mouths together, and at last his mind was free and clear again, not clouded by memory or worry. Sam, the gorgeous bastard, ruddy _keened_ at him, sucking at Gene's lower lip as though his life depended on it. His fingers found their way into Gene's hair, stroking through it. Gene's other hand found the back of Sam's chair to support himself. They only broke apart once Gene felt like his knees were going to lock up from bending down. 

 

The pen in Sam's left hand clattered to the desk. He let go of Gene's hair and held his hand instead, the one that was still plastered to Sam's cheek, brought it down until he could mesh their fingers together. Dazed, Gene glanced between their hands and the stupid grin on Sam's face. "You're only wearing one glove," Sam teased, as Gene twisted to rest the backs of his thighs against the edge of the desk, stretching out his legs.

 

Gene blustered. "You're wearing practically no shirt, you giant cocktease."

 

Sam licked his lips. "Well, now that we've smashed through the not-at-work rule...what do you think? Still got fifteen minutes before the others wander back in from lunch?" With his free hand Sam lowered the zipper on his own grey corduroys, guiding Gene's leather-gloved fingers towards his groin. 


End file.
